


light in the dark

by red_scorch



Series: Halcyon Days [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Patch 5.4: Futures Rewritten, Post-Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29893332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_scorch/pseuds/red_scorch
Summary: Continuing on is hard, but you're not alone.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Series: Halcyon Days [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197920
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	light in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a collection of one shots following the end of A Return To Halcyon Days, but it's not required to read light in the dark. I hope to have some more involved chapters soon!
> 
> You can find me at @red_scorch on Twitter

When G’raha awoke the first time, he was slow to come up, the fog of sleep unwilling to let go. He let it linger as he was equally unwilling to be roused just yet, though he had enough thought to peek at the clock before happily shoving his nose back into warm skin. It was too early for either of them to be up yet, unless an emergency showed itself; so he gladly settled back down and A’caji unconsciously tightened an arm around his middle. The deep sigh he gave lulled G’raha back to sleep.

The next time he woke up, it was to a slightly brighter room and a thumb swiping short motions along his spine. Sleep was certainly beyond him now, but it didn’t stop him from basking in the warmth and safety of the moment.

Eventually, he stirred and stretched, his toes curling. With a sleep-rough voice, he greeted, “Good morning.”

The reply was slow in coming. When it did, it sounded a little distant. “...’d morning.”

G’raha pulled away enough he could look at the other. The skin under his eyes was as dark as ever, but more telling was the set of his jaw, the tired slope of his brows. A’caji met his eyes after a second and smoothed his expression out, but G’raha had already seen that oft weary look of his. He wondered if the warrior had actually been asleep at all earlier.

Well, they couldn’t have those awful thoughts hounding him so early in the day. He lazily pushed himself up on one elbow and rested his head in his palm, peering down at the other. A’caji looked up at him, curious as his hand slipped down to his hip. Gently, he swept a thumb under one eye, then started a circling motion over his cheekbone. A’caji’s eyes drooped the smallest bit. It was only a small distraction, he knew, but A’caji was always opposed to discussing his thoughts and worries without being pressed, and G’raha didn’t want to frustrate him when the sun likely wasn’t even clear of the horizon yet. Something was better than nothing.

“I’m fine,” the warrior mumbled.

G’raha made a low sound of agreement—but one that said he obviously knew otherwise. Instead of pressing the fact, he moved his hand up into brown and blonde hair, weaving his fingers through as he smoothed it back. An ear folded down in the process and A’caji’s eyes closed briefly. For a long moment he continued the same motion, sometimes ruffling the back of his head where his layers were flat and soft, free of any hair product. Tension that G’raha hadn’t quite realized was there released from A’caji’s shoulders, though he didn’t exactly look any less weary.

He grabbed a lock of his hair near his crown, pinching it between his fingers as he softly tugged on it. “The blond is growing.”

When G’raha first witnessed the light blond streaking through A’caji’s hair atop Mt. Gulg, along with the dark brown base turning midtone, it only covered the first few inches of his bangs and ends of his hair. After the Tempest, once everyone was back at the Crystarium resting, G’raha thought—hoped, really—that it was temporary, and that the blond would be cut away as the warrior’s hair grew out. It wasn’t, of course. A’caji’s hair was slow to grow, so it took time to see the truth; but the blond now crept bright through his part, further stealing the brown away. It made him feel guilty. It was a silly worry maybe, seeing as hair was quite trivial in comparison to that person’s very life, and yet…

A’caji gave a short hum. “I’ll be blond eventually.” His eyes slowly peeked open. “...I hope it looks good.”

G’raha swallowed a snicker. The man was humble and endlessly selfless, but he held his appearance in high opinion. Not to say that was bad, or that G’raha didn’t agree—A’caji was perhaps the most handsome miqo’te he’d ever seen. It just seemed like an unlikely trait to have. “I’m quite sure it will.” Instead, the thought crossed his mind, and not for the first time, that they had been somewhat similar when his own hair was tipped in white. He never mentioned it to A’caji before, but now he couldn’t help but tease. “Hm, it appears  _ you _ will be the old man soon.”

It was quiet for a moment before the train of thought caught up and A’caji chuckled, a touch of sincerity to it. G’raha’s tail lifted with the sound. “It’s not quite that white.”

“No, I suppose not,” he agreed. Arm falling asleep, he laid himself back down in bed, tugging at blond bangs now. A’caji silently stared back at him, eyes fond. G’raha imagined if it was indeed white streaking the warrior’s hair instead. Creeping slow and unnoticeable at first, finding a strand here and there, before the silver and white color his roots. He thought of long, pure silvery hair being pulled back in a low ponytail by aged but strong hands. The breath left him. Once his wits returned to him, he beamed. “I look forward to the day it  _ does _ begin it’s change.”

When A’caji blinked, eyes widening, a bolt of fear struck him. They weren’t— they hadn’t— talked about this yet. The future was uncertain, and while G’raha would do everything to make sure A’caji persevered to the end and past it, he knew the other still harbored his own thoughts on when he would meet his demise. It was, perhaps, premature to talk about such things. Obviously they were sweet on one another, but staying as  _ lifelong _ partners in an uncertain time was quite another.

He pulled his hand away, heart dropping. “F-forgive me, forget I said anything—”

A’caji caught his hand. For a moment neither of them moved, and then he lowered their hands between them, softly pressing down on G’raha’s fingers and knuckles. A’caji didn’t look at him. “...You want to grow old?” It was G’raha’s turn to look down. He didn’t know how to interpret his tone and thus didn’t answer. “Raha.”

“I…” he started before sighing. He tried to reason that if A’caji didn’t hate him after everything on the First, surely he wouldn’t hate him for another of his flights of fancy. “Yes. Alongside you; and truthfully, I would want nothing more.”

When G’raha looked up, A’caji’s features were colored in soft regret. “You know I can’t promise that.”

He bit his lips together. "I’ve said as much before, but it bears repeating,” he began, firm but soft, turning his palm up to grip A’caji’s hand back. “I will do everything in my power to make sure you survive to see your duty through—and you  _ will _ live.  _ I  _ can promise you that."

"You can't, I—"

"I can." G'raha hadn't wanted to have this conversation again after just thinking he didn't want to upset A'caji, but they were here now and he was heated. He wanted him to understand. "You will endure, Caji. If you and yours sought every avenue to ensure my survival, so too shall we do the same for you. I've done as much before and I will continue to do so. I will  _ make _ it so."

He wasn't daft. The reality was much more complicated than that, but Twelve be damned if he wouldn't fight tooth and claw to make sure A'caji lived past his self-determined future. He had already read the aged words of that helplessness once only for it to come to fruition in a now-bygone timeline. It wouldn't happen again.

It was now that G'raha realized how tense he had become; his shoulders tight and ears angled back, his brow furrowed in determination. His grip was squeezing A’caji’s hand now, and while he didn’t look like it bothered him, just looking bewildered more than anything, G’raha let go. He brought his own hands together, rubbing the back of each one after the other awkwardly. “I’m confident of that, so, ah, my imagination is... wont to run at times.” He kept his gaze on his hands, awaiting whatever response.

A'caji heaved a sigh through his nose eventually. G'raha scraped his blunt nails along one palm. "You make me want to believe that," came the quiet response. He peered up to see A’caji smiling. Part of it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I… could be persuaded to think about it… sometimes.”

G’raha’s ears perked, mind only in the last few moments of the conversation. “Living?”

“Growing old. With you.”

His heart fluttered and he thought of silver and white again. In the back of his mind, G’raha realized this wasn’t the exact response he was hoping for—that A’caji knew it was okay to  _ want _ to live and imagine his future and not just think of it as an impossible dream, but—it was a start, he knew. The thoughts that were determined to drag one under weren’t like to give up so easily.

A’caji softly touched his grasped hands. “Tell me more?”

Well. He could certainly do that. If A’caji wanted to humor him, and maybe be a little easy on himself for once, who was he to refuse?


End file.
